


I'll Catch You When The Sunset Goes

by thnderchld



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-08 15:52:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1947081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thnderchld/pseuds/thnderchld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An ending world leaves Katara having to cope with natural disasters, a firebender, and being a last one left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Melancholy

**Author's Note:**

> A multi-chapter for Zutara week. This chapter is dedicated to my beta, Citrine (bisexualzuko . tumblr . com), who has put up with all my headcanoning and has continued to read my stuff no matter what.

'We need to talk.' -Flux, Bloc Party

 

The first signs were all there, like Las Vegas signs, humming in vibrant hues. But, no one took any heed, save for ‘desperate’ conspiracy theorists. There was the steady rise of the sea, the desperation of whimpering dogs who felt the disasters before they came.

 Then the natural disasters started happening. The world went into shock, the white house devoured by an earthquake and Buckingham Palace torn apart by lightning from hell.

 Katara had never expected that she’d be one of those people wandering through the Department Store, trolley towering high with water and any food she could get. Then she’d descended even more, wandering through the streets, weaving through cars that had stopped working. 

When she’d gotten into her apartment, she’d broken out a bottle of her brother’s vodka, continuing to swallow mouthfuls of searing alcohol, grating against her liver, aching in her belly. She sat herself upon the sofa, flicking through empty channels, the black filling the screen. 

So it came to be that she received a call. It hadn’t yet run out of battery, she’d gotten it to 100% before the electricity went dead. The sound of her brother’s voice was almost a miracle cure. “Katara? Katara, you picked up!”

She smiled to herself, swirling her fingers over the fabric of her jeans. “Sokka,” she said. “You holding up alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m with Toph and the rest. Suki wants me to tell you that she misses you. Toph wants to ask if you’ve gotten over yourself yet. Aang wants to know if you’re okay. I’m with him.”

“I’m fine, too. Your love for vodka is misplaced, by the way. So you’re just fine?”

 A crackle ran through the line. “You’re drinking! Why would you? Don’t answer that. Not _totally_ fine. I had to leave Tara 2 behind.”

 Katara sighed, thought back to the clanking heap of rusting blue metal that had carried her from Grade 5 through to a few months ago. Now it stayed somewhere in New York, silent in the middle of the road.

 “I’m sorry, Sokka.”

 “It’s an ache that won’t leave soon, I can tell you that!”

 Katara smiled, lowered her face. “I could talk to you forever, but I’m hungry. There’s no point in exercise, is there? Oh well. Miss you. Send my best to the others.”

 The line went dead, and there was silence. She was half sure she was the last person in the apartment. _Alive,_ anyway.

 The lack of noise was worrying. She was used to having the others around, to the chatter of noise, the childish voice of Aang and the arrogant chime of Toph, the horrible jokes from her brother. Suki talking to her about guys, sometimes.

 There was a noise from outside. She knew better than to just open the door. “Who is it?” she called out, and she picked up the vodka bottle. Perhaps they were robbers or murderers or…or _rapists._ No doubt there had been a lack of people who would have sex with them. And humans had the capability to be horrible.

 “It’s a friend!” a familiar voice replied. Not familiar enough to be a friend, though. In fact their face was a hazy memory in her mind, perhaps deliberately washed away. She got to her feet, striding to the door. She gripped the cold metal of the handle for a few minutes, working up courage. Then she twisted the knob, pulling it open a crack. She caught a flash of pale skin and a contrasting scar mapped upon his face. She frowned.

 “I thought you said you were a friend,” she sneered.

 “We know each other, don’t we?”

 “Still not friends,” she snorted.

 She caught the rise and fall of red shoulders. “Okay, I know you hate me. But, can I come in maybe?”

 She should’ve said no, and perhaps when it was over she’d regret it, but for that moment her world had been silent and here he spoke and so she gritted out, “Fine.”

 She opened the door wider and he entered, red and black interrupting the blue of their surroundings.

 He didn’t even ask before he slumped into the sofa.

 “Why are you here?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

 He sighed. “I heard you talking on the phone. Your brother? How’s he and- and the Avatar?”

 “They’re fine.” Katara had pinned him with a suspicious glare. He’d used to have quite the grudge for Aang. That meant, he had been cunning and- and _mean._ Nowadays, he didn’t bother Aang, save for occasional greetings, but that didn’t mean Katara would trust him.

 “You know, I have no reason to kill you. So you don’t have to look at me like that.”

“You might not be about to kill me but that doesn't mean I can't hate you.”

Zuko rolled his eyes. “At least I’m going to _try_ to be decent." 

“I don’t care if you do or not. You’re not going to be hanging around for that long, anyway. Soon the world’s going to get its shit together, and everyone’s going to walk out and track down their cars in the empty cars and we’ll have the biggest jam ever and everything will be _normal!”_ She flung herself down beside him.

 Now Zuko was looking at her with a form of pity in his eyes. “You really think it’s going to be fixed? That that’s possible?”

 Katara scrunched up her face, glaring at him with disgust. “Of course it is. Everything is fixed in time. If enough people shout.”

 “You’re wrong. There are many unsolved problems. Better, but never gone. For instance, how often have you been made to feel ashamed of your bending?”

 “I’m not ashamed anymore,” she growled. “I bet that I’d be needed, now.”

 “Really? Bend for me.”

 “I’m not a show animal,” Katara snapped, sending icicles in her gaze.

 “With me, then.” He staggered to his feet. “It’s not like there’s much left to destroy.”

 “ _Fine,_ you inebriated, assholish, cold-hearted-”

 “Katara.” Her name sounded completely wrong in his mouth, swollen and oozing.

 “What?” she snapped.

 

 Zuko sent her a long gaze, a sigh racking his body. “Don't waste your breath. It’s not going to get better so there’s nothing to save. It’s worthless. You’re worrying over nothing.”

 Katara’s top lip pulled upwards in a sneer. “No! There’s _everything_ to save. That’s _my job._ I save things for the others! I make things better!”

“No, it’s not,” Zuko’s voice started to grate in his throat. “You’re a photographer who dabbled in med school for a bit. You’re unemployed.”

“ _No!”_ Katara screeched, whirling on him. “I’m a mother to Aang and Toph and _that’s_ employment! I keep everything together so others don’t have to! And maybe there _isn’t_ anything left to save? But I can’t let anyone else know if I believe that.”

Zuko’s fingers had started to press into his palms, his eyes upon hers, gold burning from blue. “You’re worth more than that, waterbender. And there’s no one left to know if you believe it or not.”

 “I have a phone connection!”

 “And you don’t use it, do you?!” Now his voice was rising, being pushed to the limit by this infuriating, desperate waterbender with a grudge.

 “Yeah! I do! Five minute calls _count,_ believe it or not? Not that you would know!”

 “You’re right, I don’t, because I don’t _waste my goddamn phone batteries_ on talking to people _._ You likely have, what, eighty per cent? Don’t fool yourself, it’s going to run out and you will never hear your brother’s voice again.”

 

 The water came.

 It rushed to her fingers, coating them in ice, filling her with a coldness that made her heartbeat rush with adrenaline. All the moisture in the room was sucked into her embrace. _This_ was who his enemy was, Zuko thought to himself. A vicious and capable woman who could skewer him without batting an eyelash.

 He cupped flame in his palms, pulling back his wrists and sending a fireball her way. She jumped back, enclosing the flame in her water. Then Katara separated the liquid turning into ice and shot it towards the firebender.

 He melted them before they even touched him. Zuko grunted in frustration, pushing forth fire.

 “I am better!” Katara gasped, sending a water whip for his Achilles’ heel, pulling a hiss of smoke from his chapped lips. Sucking the flame into his grasp and sending it hurtling towards her, she dove out of the way just in time to collapse to the floor.

 She kicked icicles towards him; too fast for him to catch before they pinned him to the wall.

 They clashed to the ground in a puddle and Zuko ran forward, ducking her onslaughts, until his hands clamped around her wrists, rendering her immobilized.

 She bared her teeth and lashed out, kicking for his legs.

 “No.” He pushed her over to the wall, her back colliding with the wet plaster. “Calm down. I came here to have a civilised conversation and it doesn’t work if you’re so caught up with a damn grudge even _the Avatar_ has forgiven me for.”

 “I _told_ you,” Katara gritted her teeth. “I’m a mother to him. A mother doesn’t forget.”

 Zuko pushed further, the bones of her wrists pressing into the wall. “That’s not your job. You’re a teacher, not a mother. Look. This isn’t just about conversation. Do you want me to leave? Do you want silence? Do you _really_ want that? Can you live alone?”

 Katara narrowed her eyes. “I don’t trust you. That’s the point.”

 “The point isn’t trust. It’s coexisting. We’re the last ones left. Just listen.”

 Suddenly there was silence all around her, accentuated by the heave of her breath. She glanced at his feet. “I’m sorry,” she bit out.

“The world has already moved on. It’ll forget, soon enough. Do you want to be forgotten alone? If I stay for a little bit, it won’t matter. I’ll just talk to you. That’s all we need.”

 “Still…why do I have to know? I wish I could be naïve. I wish I could be the mother- or whatever- that Aang wants.”

 Zuko let go of her and stepped back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why. But you have to know.” He glanced at her wrists and his eyes widened. “Did I hurt you?”

 Katara nodded. “Not that much, though. I hurt you more, I think. On multiple occasions.”

 “True,” he muttered. “I saw you had a vodka bottle over there.”

 Despite herself, Katara chuckled. “There’s more. Let’s not get _too_ drunk, though.”

* * *

Katara had only been drunk once in the eighteen years of her life. In a few short words, it involved her, Suki, and a lack of Aang. Since fourteen she had been a mother, so she hadn’t really had any time to _get_ drunk.

 All Katara knew was that no one liked to talk about her drunken moment.

 Today, though, she was happy. She _danced_ for Tui’s sake! With _Zuko._

 He took her hands in his and he had spun her around the apartment, only them and the entire world left to listen to them.

 Night settled around them, and they were too drunk to think about _anything,_ let alone Zuko leaving.

 And so they slept. She took the bed and he the sofa. The moon rose and so did Katara’s dreams.

 She saw everything from the last few days; the flash of falling telephone wires, the screams as everything fell loose.

 Suddenly her subconscious body called for water, her tongue dry as sandpaper. It hadn’t rained in months.

 When she woke it was to the pounding of a hangover. She was quick to smother her face with her pillow. “You holding up okay?” Zuko asked from the couch and Katara squealed with shock before she remembered. She could feel the ripples in the air of how Zuko winced. Perhaps it was more than the hangover, though.

 She sat up slowly. “I never thought I’d be drunk again. Let alone with-with someone like you.”

 He chuckled once, but groaned at the pain in his head. “Should I make us some honey and lemon?”

 “P- _lease”_

 Zuko sighed as he got up, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. He staggered to the kitchen and for a few minutes Katara was left alone.

 In the momentary absence, she glanced up at the window, searing light crashing through the ozone layer and shattering onto her floor; digging its fingers into her eyes and past into her brain. She braved it, though, because she could barely even notice it anyway.

 “What are you thinking about?” Noise filled her world again, and she sighed in relief.

 “I don’t want you to be right. I don’t want the world to end.” She shot him a wry smile. He placed the tea in her hands and she started at the heat; liquid spilling onto her legs.

 Glancing at him, she lifted the teacup to her lips, bracing for the heat. At the same time she pulled on the tea spillage; dissolving it into mid-air.

 It was weird. She was sitting next to a boy whom she’d only just released her grudge for. And she was drinking hangover tea.

 “I-I _could_ be wrong.” He was lying. Then he changed his tone. “And if I’m not, we have to make the most of it. Don’t beat yourself up over having fun.”

 As if the world was out against her, the phone rang. She yelped and handed him the cup of tea, limping over to the phone. She picked it up.

 “Sokka? Is that you?”

“Thank Tui, Katara. I called while you were asleep. What were you doing?”

“Sleeping. There’s some fatalistic boy who’s washed up onto my sofa. We’ve just been hanging around.”

“Do you know him?”

Katara bit her lip for a few moments, considering. “It’s Zuko.”

“Zuko?! You mean like, Guy-You’ve-Hated-Forever Zuko?”

 “Uh…yeah. Don’t worry, though! Nothing’s going on. Just conversation.”

 Sokka snorted on the end of the line. “I trust you, Katara. You're almost an adult. The only thing I’m worrying about is if I have to beat up a guy because he hurt my little sister. And he hasn’t. So, I trust you, sis.”

 “Uh. Do you want to…speak with him?”

“Yeah. Just want to give him a message. Then he’ll hand it back to you.”

Katara nodded and handed Zuko the phone. He winced at the sound of her brother’s voice. She could hear the yelling from where she sat, and Zuko seemed to sigh in relief when he finally handed her the smartphone.

“Katara, I want you to look outside. Not at the ground. At the sky.” Sokka’s voice seemed satisfied.

Katara stood up, walking over to the window. Instead of the blue she’d expected, the gold she’d shielded against; stormclouds welled in the distance. She widened her eyes. “Rain. I can feel rain. It hasn’t been released yet, but it’s coming.”

She turned to Zuko, and she knew he could see the mood change on her face; a grin spreading up her face. “You could be _wrong,_ Zuko! Water!”

In response, Zuko merely smiled sadly.


	2. Jubilant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara and Zuko welcome the rain, and then they dread its coming with the ferocity of an ocean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to cpriceys . tumblr . com, because she puts up with me. That'll be the reason for most of my dedications.

  **'These streets are yours,**

**You can keep them.' - These Streets, Bastille**

Zuko had never really taken the time to study Katara, when they were in school. He’d known about her longer than she’d known about him; he knew that much. It should have been the other way around, really; but he knew her brother in some odd way.

He’d _hated_ the avatar, and in turn just figured that he hated her. It had been in the time before- he was two years older than she was. Somewhere, though, he had seen her.

It was just the off chances; studying in the library or spotting her in the park.

It wasn’t… _bad_ when they flowed into the same apartment building. Just weird, considering she wouldn’t waste words on him even if she had to.

It was a fluke that she opened the door.

Funny how it literally took the end of the world before she’d spare him a civil look.

 

It occurred to him that it shouldn’t be like this. They shouldn’t be sitting on her bed drinking hangover cures and, occasionally, smiling.

“The rain is _finally_ coming,” Katara gasped for the fourth time that day. “Finally, finally, _finally!”_ she spread herself out along the bed, the hangover gone.

“Even I’ve been missing it,” Zuko muttered. He wasn’t mad at Katara for her constant expectation. He’d had the sun for five months. It was her turn now.

“I wish,” Katara continued, and he turned to look at her. Her pretty eyes, such a deep shade of blue he didn’t even know if it had a name, looked at the ceiling above them; an ignorant shade of cream. It was exactly like it was supposed to be, and that wasn’t how it was meant to be. “I wish that we could go outside. See Sokka.”

“But we can’t,” Zuko rasped, lying beside her. His golden eyes fluttered upon the space between them. It was a single, but they were horizontal upon the unwashed blue sheets; legs dangling from the edge, like lovers in old movies.

“Yeah, I know that.” She flicked his shoulder. “That’s why it’s called a _wish._ ”

Zuko rolled his eyes.

“Do you have anything for breakfast?”

He could feel her nod. “I stocked up two days ago. The department store is a _mess.”_

In the silence they both pictured the black of the dead lights; packets of food sprayed across the floor. Rodents scattering across the linoleum in streaks of grey and brown fur.

Katara shut her eyes, brow creasing in concentration. “I’m guessing fifteen minutes before we get the rain. Can you smell it?" 

Zuko inhaled and he purred deep in his throat. It was familiar to him, at least; the scent before a storm. It was cool, at last, a breeze running its fingers along his cheekbones.

“Nice, huh,” Katara said, voice breathy.

The firebender nodded mutely, and a spiral of smoke ran from his nose.

“Careful. You’ll set off the smoke alarm.”

“No electricity.”

Katara opened her eyes suddenly and sprung to her legs. “I can’t wait for the rain. It’s been _five months!_ I’ll get to feel it on my face! Maybe we can quickly- quickly- go outside and dance in it.”

“Maybe. If you’re lucky.”

Katara skipped to the window, and Zuko wondered if he looked like that when the sun first came out after days of rain.

Then they heard it, rain spattering on the window. She whirled around to Zuko, a grin taking up her face. “Rain, Zuko! It’s _rain!_ Do you think I could punch out the window screen or are there probably mutant bugs?”

He snorted, sitting up. “Go ahead, waterwitch.”

For a second she narrowed her eyes, but then she smirked. “You’re mocking me.”

“Am not.”

Katara hoisted up the window and punched the screen; smiling as it split, and she reached out her hands, liquid splattering upon them. “Are so,” she muttered.

“I told you, I’m not!”

Katara turned around and lunged for Zuko, tackling him to the bed, fingers spidering at his sides. He laughed, his own hands reaching for her until they were a mess of ticklish battling.

 

In the aftermath they sat on the bed, listening to the rain come in torrents outside. “I have a torch,” Katara announced. “Let’s see our world now.”

Katara didn’t even ask him, but he would’ve come anyway. So she took the blue torch from her bag and lit it.

She made sure to keep the key with her as she stepped into the hallway. Their footsteps rang against the linoleum. Katara glanced at Zuko, silent wishes in her mind. _Stick with me,_ she thought.

He nodded at her, reaching out a hand to place upon her elbow. She nodded in return, and she started to walk. His hand was always there, and she leaned into his touch.

“It’s too quiet,” she whispered to him, and they stood before the abandoned elevator shaft, observing the cold metal walls.

She kept her mind open for the beating of hearts that might want _her body._

They simply stood there, watching the lift that they used to use every day.

“We need to use the stairs, dummy,” she finally taunted, guiding him to the stairs.

Down they ran to the lobby, plush carpet rustling against their runners. The door to the building, unsurprisingly, was unlocked. The pair strode out, feeling the rain drench them almost immediately, running down their skin underneath their clothes. Katara turned to him, a grin lighting up her face. “Sokka’s ten streets away. We don’t have enough room in his apartment to stay there, but I…think we need to see him."

Zuko nodded. “There are a few bikes over there. You can freeze the locks?”

She nodded; pulling the rain into her grasp and settling it on the bikes’ locks, before splitting them.

She mounted one of the bikes, settling back with a satisfied grin. “I’m going to get to see my brother!” she laughed. “Finally! This is the best day _ever!_ ”

Zuko shook his head with a soft smile. “Whatever you say.”

They took their bikes and set off through the streets. The rain streaked at their faces, and the scent of month-old radiation set about. Bike gears clicked against the empty roads.

“You haven’t seen my brother in a while!” Katara yelled over the dull roar of storm.

“Or Aang.”

“Don’t make me hate you again, okay?”

“Wouldn’t dare!”

 

It was strange, the silence that burned at their ears. It was different from the empty hallways of the apartment buildings. It was _enhanced_ by the rain, filling their worlds with the absence of sound.

For the ten streets to her brother’s home, Katara almost hummed to herself; singing the songs of her mother. However, a bad feeling had started to grow in her chest, rising as she saw the decrepit streets worsening in state. Finally she got to her brother’s street. Or what used to be her brother’s street.

A large crater mapped Marco Street from a few metres away from Katara’s feet, to half of what remained of the house next door to Sokka’s.

Katara dismounted the bike, staring blankly at the hole in the street. It wasn’t _deep,_ but it had effectively dismantled the supportings for each house, leaving a heap of rubble in its wake.

The waterbender sank to her knees, feeling a suspicious hole of nothing in her chest. She rubbed her hands over her arms, trying to get warm. Then she widened her eyes. “They might be unconscious in the rubble!”

She slid down to the bottom of the sinkhole, running to the heap of what most resembled Sokka’s home.

She clawed through the rubble, but found nothing. Still she sifted through the rocks and dust, slicing her palms on concrete and splinters, blood blossoming on her hands and smearing across the dirt.

Finally she gave up, turning around and climbing up the walls of the crater. Her breath heaved in her throat.

“Katara.”

She whirled around. “This is _your fault._ If I hadn’t been getting drunk with you I’d have noticed something was off with the earth. I would have noticed an earthquake!”

A sob cracked her voice. “Someone I love has _died_ because of _you!”_

Zuko stared at her, fighting the urge to look away. She deserved that much. “I’m sorry,” he choked, “That’s something we have in common.”

Katara’s rage left in a cloud of mist from her lungs. “What?” she whispered.

“You said someone you loved died because of me. That’s something we have in common. My mom- she- me?”

Katara now only felt grief. “No, Zuko. _That’s_ something we have in common.”

“Oh.”

Now there was only silence as she took his hand in hers, turning to face the dead street.

“We should go back to the apartment,” Katara whispered.

* * *

 

When they got back, Katara’s phone rang. She was quick to run to it. “Holy shit they’re _alive!”_

Zuko watched her in shock, but soon the grin was peeling off her face. “Are you all there?” she whispered into the phone, but no one on the end of the line made an attempt to be cheery.

“S-Sokka didn’t make it out. Couldn’t. It’s just Suki, Toph and me. That’s what we’re saying.”

Once again the air rushed from her lungs. “Did it hurt? Did my brother die in pain?”

“No. Sokka died right away. We hope.”

Katara nodded. “Can I talk to Suki?”

The line was passed. It was so different from the last time she’d talked to them. What had they talked about? Zuko. They’d talked about Zuko. And the sky. _Yesterday._

Katara’s voice shook as she talked to Suki. “How long, do you think? Before it ends?”

“Who knows, Katara. I’ve got to go. Not much battery on the phone left.”

Katara nodded and ended the chat, crumpling into a ball, sniffles of agony rising from her body.

Watching, Zuko started to move towards the door when her voice stopped him. “Zuko. Stay. Please stay.”

He was the only one in the world who’d come close to understanding. So he turned around, making his way to sit beside Katara. Somewhat awkwardly, he placed a hand over hers, looking at her because his gaze was the only thing he had to give.

“Okay. I’ll stay.”


	3. Motorcycle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara and Zuko discover themselves in the form of skin colliding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Ginger (youwerejustakid . tumblr . com), who was extremely talented to put up with my strange ideas and headcanons.

**'It's just you and I, tonight,**

**Why don't you figure my heart out?' - Heart Out, The 1975.**

The rain didn’t stop. While the other few months had been full of nonstop sun, her lips cracking and flaking and waking up to thick heat, now there was the constant rain. Katara was at once glad that they were on a fourth floor and not having to suffer the flooding.

 “Zuko?” she asked, poring over one of her books.

 “Yeah?” he simply sat beside her, glancing every now and again at the text in her hands.

 “Do you think we’re the only ones left?”

 Zuko turned to face her, eyes narrowed. “We don’t need to think like that.”

 “How long do we have left to talk about things we want to talk about?”

 “I don’t know.”

Katara chuckled. “Oh well.”

 He leaned over her shoulder, trying to make out the words on the page. “What book? I might read it after you.”

 She turned to face him. “It was Sokka’s. About some people who go on a motorcycle trip.”

 Zuko raised his eyebrow. “Your brother reads?”

 Katara chuckled before she sobered. “Read. Yes he did.”

 Before Zuko could register, she had leaned her head on his shoulder, sighing. “We were both going to get a motorcycle license one day. He wanted to. I can’t say I didn’t want one too.”

 Suddenly Zuko felt the strange sensation of her arms slipping around his body. The prickle of liquid on his neck. It was with a shock that he realised it was tears.

 Awkwardly, he tilted his body, wrapping his own arms around her waist and resting his chin on the top of her head. She was awfully quiet in the way she cried, spilling all she felt over her cheeks and into his skin.

 “He will want you to be happy.”

 “I know.”

 

At that moment the phone rang. Zuko was the one to reach for it, holding it to his ear. “Suki?” he asked.

 “Y-yeah. It’s me. The last train is leaving. Th- Unless you can get here in like ten minutes- this could be goodbye. Tell Katara that I couldn’t get a hold of you; the others and I have been stationed here since…since the street exploded. I’ll try to talk to you from wherever we end up. We’re not really sure where we’re going. Probably a small town or something.”

 Katara looked up at Zuko, hearing the words. “Bye, Suki,” she called into the phone.

 “Katara! Thank god.”

 “Suki. Tell Aang that I’m sorry I couldn’t get to him. And give my wishes to Toph. Please.”

Suki chuckled wryly. “I will. I promise.”

“Thank you, Suki.”

“No. Thank you, Katara. Take care of yourself. Bye.”

They were left without the final goodbye. Perhaps it was fitting.

 

Katara turned back to Zuko. “What have we gotten ourselves into?”

“It’s only us,” he muttered, closing his eyes. A plume of smoke left his lips, and his shoulders sagged, as if letting go.

“Only us. At least my family is safe.”

Katara found herself reaching up to cup the boy’s scarred cheek, thumb over his parted mouth.

“Remember when we were young, and we used to talk with our friends at sleepovers about what would happen if we were the last people on earth?”

 “I didn’t really have many friends. But I guess so, yeah. Funny how things turned out.”

 Katara nodded in agreement, eyes scanning his face, down to his lips.

 “We used to talk about things, like having to _repopulate,_ ” Katara at least smiled a little bit at the way his good cheek flushed, averting her gaze.

 Teasingly, she exhaled a cloud of mist over his face, cooling the heat inside of him. When it settled, she danced her fingers over his right cheek, creating an invisible pattern in the residue.

“What?” Zuko asked.

 “Our initials. You’re mine now. Well, not _mine._ But you’ve been marked.”

 Zuko scrunched his nose. “What does that mean? Isn’t it invisible.”

 Katara shrugged. Hugging him closer, she whispered into his chest, “Thank you, Zuko. For staying.”

 He froze at the words, gripping the cloth of her shirt. Her breath was so cold, even through his tunic, melting when it touched his chest, dribbling down his skin.

 “Can I kiss you, Zuko?”

 He started to tremble, his hands shaking. “You don’t have to,” he sighed.

 “I _want_ to.”

 He felt the heart inside his chest skip, before it went quiet in…expectation. “Okay. I want to kiss you too. I think. I want to kiss you, yeah. I do.”

Katara scrunched her nose, smiling. Then she leaned forward, her lips puckering, not against his lips yet, but in the dip beneath his nose, before leaning back, looking him measuredly in the eye.

“You don’t have to love me. Don’t worry.”

Zuko nodded. “I thought you were going to kiss me.”

“I am.”

The two leaned forward, lips meeting in the middle.

He raised a hand to cup her jaw, thumb grazing her cheekbone.

 It wasn’t a sensual one or a sweet one. It was simply her lips on his, unmoving. But then he moved. He tilted his chin, loosening his lower lip from between hers. Katara parted her lips, and he wasn’t sure _what_ she tasted like. Was he supposed to say romantic things, was he supposed to be perfect- they were the last ones and it didn’t matter whether they loved each other or not.

 Neither of them really knew. Their teeth clacked and their noses bumped and it was messy, and she bit his lip, and he scraped her tongue, and they wouldn’t settle for less. They were all the other had left.

 Metal filled Katara’s mouth, and she didn’t care. When she pulled back the first thing she did was observe her handiwork, the swollen lips, the hazy look in his eyes.

 “It’s your choice if you want to…proceed. If you know what I mean,” Katara whispered, wincing at the grating of her voice. She glanced away, blushing.

 In a way, it was nice, knowing that he wasn’t the only one finding it awkward. “Do you want to?” Zuko asked. He looked her in the eye, his hand still on her cheek.

 “Y-yes.”

 “I’m a virgin,” Zuko warned.

 “Doesn’t matter. Uh, so am I. I gave a guy a handjob before but…that was in the time Before. So it’s not really sex. Sex is _both_ parties doing something.”

 “I guess,” Zuko muttered, glancing away, face aflame. “So you want to have sex? You’re sure? With me?”

 Katara rolled her eyes, though she herself was blushing. Placing a hand over his and leaning forward, she kissed him again. “I wouldn’t want anyone else.” Her hand skimmed his cheek. “Question is, do _you_ want to have sex?”

 “Yeah. I do.”

 Sighing into his mouth, Katara brought water to her hand and boiled it, setting it against his skin. It trickled down his body, over the plains of his, mapping between the scars of his frame. Moving to straddle him, Katara gripped his shirt and pushed it over his head, marvelling at the pale skin, exposed to her fingers.

 Tentatively she touched his skin, her touch trickling gently down his flesh, grazing his muscles, following the dips and rivers of his body. Lowering herself to his chest, she pressed a kiss to a scar on his chest and Zuko tensed.

Smirking to herself, she grazed her teeth over his belly to the waist of his pants.

 When she reached his waistline, Katara paused to pull the blue shirt and bra over her head and drop them on the floor. Zuko stopped short at the sight of her topless, her body exposed to his touch, trusting him enough to let Zuko _touch_ her.

Blushing, Katara stammered, “Is this alright?”

 “It’s fine. Just…new.” She could feel his gaze tracking down her body, to her hips. Resuming a frown of concentration, Zuko’s hands slipped down to hook in the waist of her jeans, creeping to the button and pushing her pants down over her hips. And just like that, she was only in her underwear, sudden gusts of air raising goosebumps on her skin.

 She pushed closer to his body heat, continuing to push kisses against his collarbone. Spurred on by inaction, Zuko slipped a finger between her thighs, hovering beneath the junction. With a relaxed sigh Zuko pushed his fears behind him and pushed her underwear over her legs; pressed his lips to her collarbone, to her ear. Katara ‘s breath hitched against the top of his head and Zuko transformed.

 He needed to make her feel good, wanted to make her forget that _any_ of this existed. Forget about her brother, and let the invisible war being fought outside their building slip away into the bottomless chasms of her mind.

 Hooking an arm around her waist, he lowered her to the sofa, the light beyond his lashes catching the colour of bronze skin, dark hair splayed behind her.

 Winking, Katara bucked her hips into Zuko’s. The boy groaned at the contact, and lowered his head to Katara’s stomach; spattered with old bruises and scars. Resting his lips against a scar just beneath her breasts, just as she’d done for him, he pressed his finger against her apex, the waterbender squirming in response. She paused her handiwork to grasp his wrist, guiding his fingers to her clit. “There,” she gasped.

 

Nodding at the knowledge, Zuko pressed against her nub, eliciting a string of curses and groans. “Zuko. _Zuko_ ,” she breathed against the heat of his fingers.

 Smiling at the sound of his name, he backed up; lowering his lips to her thighs, tongue trailing up to her heat. He chuckled before his tongue slid against her clit, a scream rocking Katara’s frame. Squeezing her eyes shut as she came, she dug her fingers into his scalp, curling her toes.

 In the aftershocks she took a few breaths before she moved him onto his back and pushied his pants down. She hoisted herself up on her knees and let her sink over him with a groan. With a single rocking of her hips his eyes squeezed shut in agony. “Please,” he whined. “Please, ‘Tara. I thought you didn’t hate me?”

 “If I hated you I would- _not_ be fucking you.”

 She rocked her hips again and she felt him arch beneath her, sweat plastering his dark hair to his brow. Smirking, Katara spread her hands over his body, clenching her thighs with a rigidity of rhythm.

 They were out of sync, the two of them. The pattern was off, he pulled while she pushed, tearing them in two different directions. But the heat, the touch, it was enough.

With a final rock of her hips Zuko came, arching back with a loud cry. Katara gasped his name a final time and the two of them collapsed against each other on the sofa, her head pillowed on his chest.

 With the last of her strength she hoisted herself up, slipping him out of her, and reclined against Zuko’s naked chest. “Was I okay?” Zuko choked, glancing at her with a type of vulnerability.

 “You were great, Zuko. You were great.” With that, she fell asleep, and Zuko smiled as he traced his fingers along her sweaty skin.

* * *

 

When the sun rose her legs felt weak, staggering under the weight of the night before.

“I can’t believe I had sex with you, of all people,” she mumbled into the skin of Zuko’s chest, breathing in his scent. “I don’t regret it at all.”

 Zuko stiffened in surprise, before relaxing. “I don’t either.”

 Katara glanced up at him. “It’s weird. I get the feeling that, no matter what, I could never regret you.”

Holding her hand in his, he lowered his head and placed a kiss to the knuckles, to the bumps and the pores and the spidery fingers. “The feeling goes returned,” he smiled at last.

* * *

 The next morning they woke once again in each other’s arms. Except that time, waking happened when the sunset slammed its light into their eyeballs, rousing them just before the sun left.

They could never sleep after waking. And so they talked, her head pillowed on his shoulder, smiling when she saw the sun silhouette his face in gold and black. “My mother would have liked you,” Katara whispered.

“Likewise,” Zuko smiled. “And my Uncle would already be preparing the wedding.”

Katara chuckled at the thought.

Just as the sun set beneath the window, Zuko could barely breathe when he saw his friend’s face explode with golden light.


	4. Cobalt Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Survivors eventually become thieves of memory, dancing simply because that's what they used to do.

**"I will remember your face,**

**Because I am still**

**In love with that place." -Atlas Hands, Benjamin Francis Leftwich**

 

As the world filled with ocean water, it turned an ugly purple colour as it swept through the city streets, knocking away debris. As of yet it hadn’t gotten dangerously high, at least for Katara and Zuko. But whatever food was left at the department store was surely floating among the waterlogged roads.

 The water crept into the houses, filling the bottom floors completely to the top. Katara dreaded to think of her brother’s old house, collapsed beneath metres of saltwater.

 The morning woke to her tangled in Zuko’s pale arms, a fragment of sunlight collapsing on her floor and spilling over their bodies.

 For the first time Katara woke first. She lifted her head, catching sight of their reflection in a mirror resting against a chair. She picked out everything she could of the two of them; fragmented in the honey light. They looked…nice, Katara thought. Zuko’s naked body bathed in the golden light of sunrise, an arm wrapped around Katara’s waist, face pressed against her neck.

 “Good morning,” Katara shook him slightly and he woke.

 Rubbing his eyes he loosened his grip and sat up. “Your brother would kill you if he knew what we were doing every night.”

 Katara glanced away. “Yeah.”

 With a smile of sympathy, Zuko snuggled as close to her as possible. “Why am I cold?” he muttered to himself.

 Katara shrugged. “Who knows?” Turning her head towards the window, she concentrated on the water level before turning to Zuko. “We’re well and truly stuck inside the building now. The ocean’s burst its banks. First floor seems to be completely flooded. To the roof.”

 Zuko chuckled. “Did you ever watch that movie _Titanic_?”

 Katara nodded. “Not _really_ similar except for the ocean.”

 The firebender rolled his eyes. “Do you remember when they go down the stairs and it’s full of water? I can see that happening here. Do you want to see where the water level is?”

 Katara hummed in agreement, grabbing a musty dress from a chair and chucking it on over nothing. Zuko merely slid on some pants and a once too-tight shirt from Sokka.

 They strode out of the apartment arm in arm. “I wonder what my dress would look like on the floor,” Katara murmured to Zuko with a smirk.

 Her partner sighed in exasperation and they descended the multiple stairs until they reached the last flight. Zuko shot Katara a satisfied grin- water lapped at the bottom of their shoes.

 “It’ll be a while before it reaches our floor,” Katara said with a sigh.

 “Good.” Zuko’s hand snaked down to hers, interlocking the fingers. “Good.”

 The two turned and returned back upstairs. Back upstairs to the fleeting light and the mirrors and the smell of sex making them intoxicated. Katara turned to the firebender, a smirk tilting the corner of her mouth.

 “Look at these,” she suddenly said as she made her way to the closet, pulling aside the door. Dresses hung on hooks, their fabric flowing towards the ground in a flood of blue. There were one or two green ones, and one red one, but most of it was blue. “It’s been ages!”

 Without hesitation Katara pulled her dress over her head and let it fall to the floor. Zuko looked away. _Don’t look at her. If you do you won’t be able to look away again._ But he did look back, and he marvelled. Marvelled at the slender grace of her caramel body. She’d lost weight, he noticed. Her hipbones jutted out more, her fingers were more skinny than slender; and if she’d turned around he knew that her ribs would make his heart ache. Or, more than it already did.

 She didn’t turn around, though. He saw her run one hand over her ribcage before reaching out for a dress and pulling it over her body. _Then_ she turned. Her eyes caught him off guard, glinting with nostalgia of old neon lights, dancing across her memory. “My prom dress,” she explained. “It’s listed as,” she quoted with her fingers, “Cobalt blue.”

 

_Cobalt blue,_ thought Zuko. That was the shade of her eyes. Oceans unbound, lapping in and out in her irises, flashing silver in the light. Her hands rested on each of her shoulders, adjusting the straps to keep it from falling and collapsing to the floor.

 It was a simple dress. It sagged around her chest, until the skirt flowed out from her waist and back in again with a wave of _cobalt blue._ A dress like hers could never simply be just _blue._

 Now he could see the sharp turning of her shoulders, bones hidden underneath the placing of her fingers.

 “If you can tighten the thread it’ll fit me better,” she explained, turning around again. Now he could see that there was a criss-cross of ribbons tying her dress together; keeping it from peeling away from the coffee skin.

 He leaned forward, reaching out and tugging on the ribbons; pulling the fabric taut and tightening it to her body. It slipped through his fingers, and it reminded him of the trickling of water.

 

She let him place his hand on her waist, a measured touch through cotton, before his hand fell away.

 Katara faced him again, a grin spanning. She swayed her hips, letting the hem of her dress swish around her knees. She _giggled,_ of all things, carefree laugh caressing his cheeks with a flush. Her own face was blushing with a strange happiness, and her eyes fell to the floor, and she reminded him of the schoolgirl she should be.

 “Do you have a camera?” Zuko asked. He needed to remember her. Like this.

 “I studied photography!” she chided, “Of course I do. It’s _underneath_ my bed.”

 Nodding, Zuko left their proximity for a few minutes before he returned with a silver camera, holding it for a moment before light flashed across her face as she beamed into it. She laughed then, tilting her head to catch his golden gaze.

 “Let’s dance. One song. Or two,” she suggested in the memory-released high.

 Katara skipped past him to where her phone sat, and she leaned down to scroll through the songs she kept.

 

It wasn’t one of the crappy songs they’d had at prom, when he’d gone with Mai. Katara had danced with a boy called Jet, he knew. Whenever Katara had caught Zuko’s gaze she’d glared.

 But now she put the speakers of her phone on loud for the two of _them._

 “Before we dance,” Katara giggled, “How do I look?”

Zuko lifted a hand, for a moment letting it hang in midair. As though he was afraid that just by touching her he could be swept away. Swallowing through his fear, his hand graced her cheek, searing cold as it touched his palm. She leaned into his touch for but a moment before she glanced away, breath caught on a laugh.

 Zuko’s fingers brushed up over her face, pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. “You look…” he finally tried to answer. Shaking his head, he pushed all fears out of his head. She’d already seen him naked, what more could a few words do?

 “You look wonderful.” He leaned forward, kissing her lips briefly before pulling away with a smile. “Dance with me.”

 She took his pale hands in hers. “Do you know how to _move,_ though?”

 Zuko shrugged. “Can you show me?”

 Nodding, Katara motioned for him to follow her lead. She stepped backwards and right, and Zuko always followed her, until finally she said, “Do what you want. What you know.”

 He was okay. As the music sank into their ears, releasing endorphins as it cut away all the pain and severed the regret. There was only each other as Zuko and Katara twisted and danced and laughed together, grinning as though they were successful thieves. Which perhaps they were. This was a moment of the time before, from the ages of homework and prom and dances. You weren’t supposed to have that twice. You weren’t supposed to forget.

 Their rhythm started to match after a few minutes, as it always ended up doing. Her inhale transformed into an exhale, her eyes fluttered shut, and they knew that they shouldn’t be there. But since when did they do what they were supposed to do? Zuko shouldn’t have come to her door, she shouldn’t have opened it, they shouldn’t have found comfort in skin, they shouldn’t be there. What use was there in pretending?

So they smiled and took it. Damn the consequences.

* * *

 

 The water forced them to leave. Not the building, just… leaving. Zuko’s apartment was on the seventh floor. They took all they could and returned upstairs. Katara took her dresses, the camera, and the books. Zuko took the food and himself.

It was a twist of fate that the minute Zuko stepped inside, _his_ phone rang. Shooting Katara a glance, he strode to the noise and picked it up. It was an Unknown Caller. 

Thinking of the odds that it could be someone… _unwanted,_ Zuko tapped the answer button.

“Big brother.”

 Zuko’s heart stopped. He was halfway to slamming his thumb against the End button, but Azula’s voice stopped him. It didn’t sound like she was going to tease him.

 “I’m surprised you’re still alive,” she crooned, somewhere far out, somewhere away from the land of rising oceans. “I would’ve thought you’d drown.”

 “I’m still alive.” Zuko flattened his voice into an emotionless state, and Katara looked away from this Zuko. She’d talked to her brother one last time. She’d let Zuko have this.

 “I don’t know why I called, actually. A last resort, I suppose. And you’re here. I kind of thought that dad had gotten someone to kill you.”

 “Dad’s tried to kill me before, Azula. He never can.”

 Katara squeezed her blue eyes shut. She couldn’t hear his sister, but she could hear Zuko’s replies, aching and trembling. Her fingers itched at her side to reach out and touch him. His hands especially. To feel the bumps and the scars and to kiss them into oblivion, and to make him forget his father completely.

 But that was something a lover would do.

 He did not love her. She was not a lover. Not _his_ lover, anyway.

 “Dad will probably be upset with me if he finds out I tried to talk to you. I had to take a risk.” He could hear the darkness at the end of the line.

“Thank you, Azula,” Zuko frowned. “For caring.”

 “I don’t,” Azula brushed off, “You’re just my brother.”

 

She hung up. Zuko placed the phone down on the chair as if it were an impact grenade. Katara now saw the way his fingernails bit into his palms, tensing at his sides. She couldn’t help it. The tremble in his arms, the tense of his jaw, it all gave away his rage; the desire to crush his phone underfoot and hear it snap to pieces. She could see it on his face.

 So she took a few steps forward, and wrapped her arms around his waist. He breathed out. At least she could do this.

 “I’m sorry, Zuko,” she whispered into his chest.

 The edge of his mouth tilted in a half smile. “It’s fine. What was _back then_ compared to the mess we’re in now? Nothing.”

 Katara sighed, exhaling mist. “For me, at least, there are some things that are better.”

“Oh.”

Katara let herself go. Her skinny hands slid from his waist to his hand. Her fingers interlocked with his, and she brought his hand to her lips. “We’re going to go stir crazy very soon, if we’re stuck in here.”

“If we’re not already.”

She smiled down at their conjoined fingers. “Take a seat, Zuko.”

They took a seat on the bed, relaxing atop the mattress with her hand on top of his. Facing him, she started to run her thumb along his knuckles. She exhaled and closed her eyes and felt the mist on his bone, limbs much thinner now than when she’d hated him. Gulping, her middle and ring finger slid down his pinkie, feeling the rough of his calluses and the cold smoothness of his nail, sharpening until his nails ended in bitten edges.

Then Katara’s coffee-coloured index glided along his middle finger, rounding to rest at the top, running back and forth along his fingertip for a minute before falling into the dip between thumb and index.

With a rush her fingers enclosed his wrist and turned his hand over, placing her other hand on his artery. She opened her eyes for just a second to see Zuko watching her actions, eyes glazed with some unfamiliar emotion. Katara didn’t want to think about what that was, though.

Her right hand’s thumb slid over the centre of his palm and a weight seemed to tumble off of his shoulders and disappear. With wide eyes, Katara’s index slid against the dip of his pointer and middle finger.

Her thumb began to swirl around his palm and she could hear Zuko’s breath catch in his throat.

Then she raised his palm to her parted lips, her tongue flicking against it. She glanced up to see Zuko’s eyelids fluttering shut as her tongue started to swirl around against the pale skin, following the veins with precision.

“Is this okay?” she muttered into his hand.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he moaned.

But before she continued she kissed his artery, and pretended they were lovers.


End file.
